Remember
by OneHour2Write
Summary: This story came about during a 1hour2write chat session. A story line was posed, and we all wanted to see how it would be written by each other. So we split it into four characters, each of us wrote our piece in an hour, we combined them together...and no


_**OneHour2Write**_

**Title:** Remember  
**Authors: ****CSIClue, Cropper, LosingInTranslation, Smacky30**  
**Editor/Compiler:** Mingsmommy

**Rating: **Teen  
**Pairing: **GSR/team friendship  
**Spoilers: **Through 8x07

**Authors' Notes: **This story came about during a 1hour2write chat session. A story line was posed, and we all wanted to see how it would be written by each other. So we split it into four characters, each of us wrote our piece in an hour, we combined them together...and now we present the story to you! We hope you enjoy it!

**Remember **

"Warrick," Nick drawled as he slumped into a chair, "man, are you changing teams?" The Texan indicated the brightly colored, ultra feminine flyer for a shoe stores "Mother's Day Sale."

Warrick shook his head, "Let me tell you a little story, Nick."

_I grew up in a household with two women._

_Big women. Strong women. Women who weren't about to take anything off of anybody, and in a town like Las Vegas, that's saying a lot. My grandmother moved here back in the Thirties, when the Dust Bowl wiped out the family homestead on the Oklahoma state line. She and my grandfather packed up and came west, intending to get to California, but ended up in Vegas because the money ran out. They got work—slowly at first, but when the first casinos went up, my Grandma Lou was one of the first maids in the hotels._

_Yeah, a maid. Cliché as hell, but it was enough to get by._

_My grandfather died of a heart attack after church one Sunday, and Grandma Lou went to the hotel manager and told him she needed a promotion. He gave it to her—to this day my Aunt Belle thinks Grandma Lou had something on him, but I don't think so._

_Grandma Lou just had presence. In capital letters, man—PRESENCE. She was the most regal, dignified woman I ever knew, even when she was barefoot in the back yard hanging laundry. She knew the Bible forwards and backwards; she made me wash my hands before coming to the supper table, and she wore the brightest, reddest lipstick I've ever seen. It came from Walgreen's and it was called Hallelujah Red._

_Weird what you remember, yeah?_

_Anyway, she was in charge; my aunt and I knew that. Everyone in my neighborhood knew it, but it wasn't a bad thing. Grandma Lou made sure we all had enough to eat, and clean clothes for Sunday._

_Aunt Belle was the one who took me to the down town library every Saturday until I was nine. I remember sitting with her on the bus, looking at the billboards for the casinos and asking her what slots were._

_She didn't have any truck with gambling, but she didn't argue about it none either. I guess both she and Grandma Lou knew that gambling brought the tourists, and tourists needed clean rooms, so better to stick with housekeeping and not worry about the casino part of things._

_Yeah._

My mother died of breast cancer back when in the days when there wasn't a lot of treatment for it. I was six when she died, and after she was gone it was just Grandma Lou, Aunt Belle and me. By the time I was eight, I wanted to get them something for Mother's Day.

_I got them shoes._

_Downtown in Vegas there was a shoe store called Brenton's and they had a display case with all sorts of shoes in it. I'd seen a pair of high heels in the window that I knew would be absolutely perfect for them._

_One pair. For two women._

_That was because I only had four dollars in those days. I had saved up dimes and quarters from here and there—found some, earned some, was given some—and that pair of high heels in the window were three dollars and eight two cents._

_And because I wanted to give a present to Grandma Lou AND Aunt Belle, I __figured—with my eight year old brain—that if I gave them one shoe each, that would cover the deal. Both of them would get a present, right?_

_Now to my way of thinking back in the late Seventies, those were some gorgeous shoes. Picture this—bright red plastic alligator pumps with pointy toes and black plastic heels. I'm sure people nowadays would laugh themselves sick over those shoes. Hell, even your most hardcore foot fetishist would be smirking._

_But to me, they were Hallelujah Red, and I knew they'd match Grandma Lou's lipstick._

_So I bought them. The clerk at Brenton's gave me two shoe boxes, and I carried them home with me. I wrapped them—one shoe in each box, and did the outsides with shiny Reynolds's Wrap._

_So._

Mother's Day, and we go to church. I'm squirming, all excited because I've got these presents, and a couple of times both my grandmother and my aunt are giving me the evil eye, but we finally get done and head home. I pull out the matching boxes and march them in. The two of them are all oooohs and ahhhs over the wrapping, and telling me I shouldn't have, and what a sweet child I am--

_And then they get to the shoes—right about at the same time._

_They look at each other,_

_They look at their one shoe._

_They look at me._

_My Grandma Lou was about five foot five, and a good two hundred and twenty pounds. My Aunt Belle was five seven and oh, about one hundred and eighty pounds._

The shoes were size six and a half.

_And I still remember looking at them, hovering in that one moment of make or break, when hesitating just a fraction too long would have brought the whole day crashing down._

_Never came._

"_Warrick John Brown you get yourself over here so I can hug you to pieces, boy!" my Grandma Lou bellowed at me._

"_I get him next, Mama! Have you EVER seen a nicer pair of Sunday pumps! Lavinia Steele is going to be jealous hooo-weeee!" That was my aunt._

_Two women, hugging the breath out of skinny eight year old me, wrapping me in warm brown arms, kissing my face and holding impossibly tiny shoes in those calloused hands._

_I miss them._

_So, on Mother's Day every year, I buy two pairs of red shoes and send them to the First Baptist Church Women's Shelter on Fifteenth and Statemore._

"Aww, man." Nick nodded as Sara and Greg entered the break room, sliding into chairs at the table.

"What can I say? They raised me." His eyes narrowed as he took a pull from his water bottle. "Southern boy like you? I bet you got a good Mother's Day 'honor your mama' story."

Nick's blinding smile flashed. "So happens, I do."

_It's funny, really. Never really seemed to hit me when I was there. Just felt like any other Sunday, only there were more flowers on the table at dinner time._

But after my first year in Vegas, about two weeks before Mother's Day, I got this kinda sick feeling. Like I knew I was missin' something, but didn't have a clue as to what. Not until I was workin' a case with Cath and she stopped on the way back to the lab to order some flowers for her Mom. Man, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt awful that I'd almost forgot.

_First thing I did when I got home was to start surfin' the net, to find something, somethin' good. I couldn't just call up the local florist and send her flowers. First off, she'd know about it before the vase even came off the shelf, __seein' as the woman owned the shop was an old friend of hers. But it had more to do with the fact that I knew just sendin' flowers would be like another slap in the face; "Oh yeah, by the way, your baby boy ain't ever comin' home."_

No, the guilt was way too strong, and I needed to do somethin' real special. But I didn't even know where to start.

_She had everything she ever needed; my Dad saw to that. The grandkids would take care of the cutesy stuff, and I knew my sisters would have some special day all planned out. And my brother… He'd do like he always did, send his wife to the jewelry store and spend enough to make everyone look bad. He always had to do it bigger and better than anybody else; always._

_I spent two whole days wrackin' my brain, trying to find somethin' that would tell my mother how I felt; how much I missed her. But every time, I just came up blank._

_When I got done cataloguin' some evidence in the vault, I whipped out my laptop and tried again to find anything. I was totally running out of time, and hope was becomin' a distant memory._

_Just when I was about to throw in the towel and go get somethin' to eat, I could feel someone staring over my shoulder. When I turned to see who it was, Mandy just stood there shakin' her head. She rolled her eyes and put it all in perspective for me. "You don't send your mother cookie bouquets, Nick. That's totally cheesy. 'Oh here, Mom, some crap cookies you coulda made ten times better, but I'm too busy to bother with a real gift. Besides, all you did was give me life, wipe my butt, and keep me straight.' No way, dude. You need to do better than that."_

_She was totally right, and I felt even worse, but she wasn't done with me yet. She just turned around, put her print lifts in the evidence box and shot back over her shoulder, "Why don't you just show her what all her hard work's done? And let her get away from that mad house you call a family."_

_After she walked out, I was still standing there in a total daze. I couldn't believe it was that damn simple. And of all the people to throw it in my face; the one woman in the lab who'd barely said more than ten words to me._

_Regardless, she was right. Got on the phone and ordered my Mom a round trip open ticket. Even set it up to have them couriered over to her office that Friday._

_It took her less than four weeks to use it. She even rescheduled a trial just so she didn't have to wait any longer._

_The other thing I never realized was how much she really missed me. I just figured, with an older brother, five sisters, and all the accompanying spouses, not to mention the grandkids, she wouldn't have time to miss one wayward son. Boy, was I wrong._

_We spent the whole week together, when I wasn't at work. She wouldn't hear of me takin' any time off while she was here, but I did talk her into comin' in with me one day. I wanted her to see what I was doing, and maybe even to understand why I'd chosen forensics over the law._

_Unfortunately, Grissom and Catherine were both out on cases when she was there, but she met Warrick and Brass. And then I showed her around the lab. When we got to the print lab I saw that Mandy was workin' late again and that's when I told Mom the truth. That the whole trip had been Mandy's idea._

_And that was when my mother completely blew me away. She marched right up to Mandy and held out her hand. Poor Mandy didn't know what to think, but she put away the print she was workin' on, took off her gloves and wiped her hands on her lab coat before she took Mom's hand._

_Mom thanked her for telling me what for, and that she was very happy to know that there was a woman here in Vegas willin' to look past my Southern charm and hold me accountable. Then she kissed her on the cheek and gave her a big hug._

_Mandy looked like she was going to come completely unglued, but I was too shocked to do anything but gape like a beached bass. When Mom pulled away, she left us both totally knocked out. She thanked Mandy again, and then Mom said she hoped Mandy was able to make it out to Texas with me on my next trip._

I didn't know what to say. I had no idea where any of that came from, and I sure as hell couldn't explain it to Mandy. I didn't even know where to start with my Mom, let alone Mandy.

_The next shift, after I safely put Mom on a plane back to Texas, I knew I was gonna catch some serious hell at the lab. The way things get twisted around in that rumor mill… We'd probably been married off, and have a secret child being cared for by nannies is Dallas by then! But it was totally weird…no one said anything. Not a single word. I guess nobody'd seen that little scene, after all.  
__  
I thought about sneaking past the print lab, but I knew I had to say something. I think I sputtered an apology for about five minutes, and the whole time Mandy never looked away from her scope. Finally, she said something, but she still had her nose in that scope. Real cool, she just said, "Like everything else in Texas…I expect that ring to be huge."_

_When she finally looked up, we both busted out laughing. It was probably a good thirty minutes before we were able to stop enough to go back to work. But we kept laughing about that day for the next seven years. Right up until the day I put that Texas sized ring on her finger._

They were all silent for a moment, smiling at Nick's story of the two women in his life; then, Sara leaned forward, absently drawing a pattern on the table with her fingers.

"This is going to sound strange, but my best Mother's Day memory hasn't happened yet." Sara's voice was wistful and a smile played over her mouth.

"Wait a minute," Greg shook his finger in her direction, "you can't have a Mother's Day memory that hasn't happened." Sara nailed him with a glare, eyebrow riding high on her forehead. "I mean…it's just not…right?" He glanced around the table, expecting someone to back him up. When he noticed Nick's glare and Catherine's wide-eyed horror, he realized he had made a mistake. "Shit," he muttered before covering his face with both hands.

"Don't sweat it, Greg." Sara took pity on him. "I don't need anybody to walk on eggshells around me. Actually, thanks for forgetting."

She had only been back in Vegas for a couple of months, and one of the first things she had done after unpacking her suitcase had been to tell her friends about her past. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done. But their quiet acceptance and unwavering support told her it was the right thing. She actually felt guilty that she hadn't trusted them enough to tell them earlier. That Greg could forget, even for a moment, made her feel really good in an odd way.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his hands linked behind his head. "So are you going back to…what is that place again?"

"Point Reyes Station." Sara shook her head. "Nope. We're staying here."

Catherine sipped from the water bottle she had been holding. "She's coming here?"

There was a sparkle in Sara's eyes when she nodded. "Yeah. For the weekend. Grissom said we could go there but I've…uh…I've been away enough." She gave a shrug and continued in a quieter voice. "It will be the first Mother's Day I get to spend with my mother in over twenty years."

"Good for you." Warrick smiled and gave her a wink. "Think Grissom can take the two of you for that long?"

"Hey!" Sara's laughter bubbled up, reminding them all of what they had almost lost.

"Sure I can." Grissom's voice, warm and confident, came from the doorway. Every eye turned in his direction. "Looking forward to it actually."

"I can't believe you really said that." Greg shook his head, as if he were trying to clear cobwebs from his brain. "You? Looking forward to having someone in your house? For three days."

"Believe it, Greg." Grissom walked forward until he was standing behind Sara's chair. Putting his hands on her shoulders he smiled down at her. "I can't wait to have all three generations under one roof."

"Oh my God!" Catherine's shriek of excitement broke the moment of confused silence.

After everyone's enthusiastic reception to their "news" Sara didn't think about Warrick and Nick's stories of the women who raised them until the next day.

"Grissom?" Sara's voice was wistful as they lay on the sofa enjoying the quiet of the late afternoon. "What is your favorite Mother's Day memory?"

Grissom smiled gently as he ran a hand lightly across her abdomen and the slight bulge that was just beginning to make itself known. "Besides this one?"

Covering his hand with hers, Sara tilted her head to look at him. "Yeah. Tell me a story."

"Well, I was about eleven, maybe twelve, and my mother and I went to The Charter House for dinner. It was my mother's favorite restaurant. My father would take her there on special occasions and she hadn't been since he died." He smiled at a memory and his hand absently stroked over her stomach. "I got to call and make the reservations. It made me feel very important." His quiet chuckle vibrated through his chest, tickling her ear. "I wore my best church suit and my hair was slicked down. We took a cab. I had never been in a cab before."

Sara turned her head and placed a kiss against his shirt covered chest. "I'll bet you were very handsome." When he snorted, she poked his ribs. "What did it look like? The restaurant."

"The tables were covered in white. Starched white linen tables cloths. There were cut lead crystal goblets and heavy silverware and fresh roses on every table." His voice had grown dreamy, as if he were looking at something only he could see. "I was so intimidated."

"Usually my father ordered for her, not unusual back in those days, so no one ever knew that she was deaf. But, when she signed her choices to me and I ordered for her, the waitress got this pained look on her face and for the rest of the meal treated my mother like she was...slow. I actually heard her tell another server to keep an eye on the 'RE-tard' and her son because she was afraid that we would try to skip out without paying.

"She could read lips very well and caught the gist of the conversation. I was angry...my mother was deaf, not handicapped. True, we did not have a lot of money, but my mother ran her own business and it was starting to take off. I wanted to yell at them, shove their ignorant misconceptions down their throats.

"My mother laid her hand on top of mine and told me to ignore them...that they did not know what they were talking about. She and I knew the truth and that was all that mattered. First perceptions are often wrong and people are very quick to prejudge and lash out against what they do not understand and therefore fear. It is much easier to make a monster out of a fear to make it real that to educate themselves to overcome that fear.

"It still bothered me. If they never knew the truth and prejudged based on first impressions, then how would they ever really get to know you? See, I was struggling with the same thing in school. I was an outcast, a ghost. Most people just thought I was a freak and didn't even try to get to know me."

"Mom told me," Grissom swallowed heavily around the lump that was forming in his throat, "that someday I would meet someone who loved me just because I am me. That was one of the greatest lessons she ever taught me and one of the most precious gifts as well."

"A gift?"

He nodded, his beard bristling against the back of her neck. "Yes, an amazing gift. The day was supposed to be all about her, about me showing her how much she meant to me and she turned it all around and spent t Mother's Day comforting me. I learned more about love and compassion in that one afternoon than I ever have before...until you came along."

Sara rolled on to her back to look at him curiously. "Me?"

"You strengthened that lesson and gave me the courage to show you the real me without fear of judgment or rejection. And now..."

"Now..." Sara dragged the word out waiting for Grissom to finish his thought.

Gil gently tugged her until she was laying on top him. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face before cupping her face with both of his hands. His voice was a husky whisper when he finally continued. "Now you are going to be a mother and pass that wonderful lesson on to our child every time you show that love and compassion."

Sara's eyes brimmed with tears and she nestled down onto his chest. His hands stroked softly up and down her back as he kissed the top of her head and finished his story.

"And that was my best Mother's Day memory...until now."


End file.
